Monday, February 18, 2013

A Quaker Aymara blessing

Hal and I have been in La Paz some
five days now and are slowly adjusting to the high altitude. This past weekend
we participated in the Bolivian Friends Pastors Conference here in the city,
with some 70 people in attendance. It was challenging, but I want to write
about yesterday, Sunday.

At the conference our good friend
Humberto invited us to worship on Sunday in the Villa San Antonio Friends
Church. We’ve had close contact with this congregation during the years we
lived in La Paz, so we gladly accepted.

Early Sunday morning we found a
trufi (mini-van bus) whose regular route literally took us from the door of our
hostel, across the city and up the hill to the very door of the church. (Usually
one has to take several trufis to cross the city.) We arrived at 9:00 to take
part in a Sunday school class of older people that Humberto teaches. These are
Aymara people who prefer using their own language rather than Spanish, and who
prefer the old hymns above the newer praise songs. (Sound familiar?) So
Humberto taught in Aymara, inviting lots of participation as these wonderful
old men and women shared from their experiences of how God reveals himself to
them. It’s been a while since I’ve actively spoken Aymara, so a lot of it went
over my head, but I reveled in a sense of being washed in the beautiful sounds
of this language. There were just a few in attendance at 9:00, but around 30
people an hour and a half later as we concluded.

For the worship service, young
people and families with kids filled up the sanctuary. We kept our place among
the old ones. After an hour of praise songs in Spanish, accompanied by a small
band (that made a very loud noise) and a team of worship leaders, pastor Juan
Yapura, another old friend, gave announcements and welcomed Hal and me to the
service with words of appreciation and warmth that almost embarrassed us. As if
that weren’t enough, after the morning offering and a few more songs, Juan told
the congregation that he felt led of the Spirit to take a love offering for us,
in gratitude for years of service and to help us in our present ministry. The
congregation gave a great “Amen!” So the baskets were passed around. We felt
humbled and blessed.

Hal then went up to the pulpit to
give a word of greeting. Juan gave him a big hug and then stepped down, and at
that point Hal realized he was to give the morning sermon. He had done no
preparation, didn’t even have his Bible with him, but that may have all been
for the best. He spontaneously shared memories of our family’s relation with
the congregation, thinking back to when the group met in a small adobe
sanctuary on the side of the mountain until a heavy rain sent the building
sliding down the hill. He recalled the miraculous project of the new property,
of sharing in the ceremony of laying the foundation stone, of the many trips
with elders out to the Lago Norte region to plant new Friends churches (now an
established quarterly meeting). He mentioned how important this congregation
was to our kids, how the youth group sponsored Kristin’s quinceñera, of all the
friendships formed. This was in the context of remembering God’s faithfulness
and being grateful. It was quite moving.

When Hal stepped down, Juan
invited us both to kneel and asked all the people there to gather around us for
a prayer of blessing. Juan led the prayer, using the microphone, while everyone
else also prayed aloud, as is the custom. It was a beautiful prayer for our
health and our ministry, for David and Kristin, their work and families, full
of gratitude. These were no mere words. This was a blessing, real and tangible,
a prayer that will make a difference in our lives. After the blessing, one by
one, people gave us the abrazo (hug), another lovely Aymara custom.

We hung around a while, visiting
with people, taking photos, saying “Goodbye” yet again. Then Humberto took us
to a popular restaurant where we each had a huge bowl of chairo, a
traditional Bolivian soup full of chuños, vegies and meat, topped by a
delicacy called chicharón, actually deep-fried pig fat. (It’s a delicacy
I usually skip.)

Looking back at the experience,
I’m reminded that generosity and hospitality are core Aymara values. These are
magnified when people become Christian. And the affection of these people comes
from long years of shared experiences and deep friendship. Yes, we have been
blessed.

1 comment:

My eyes brim with tears. This is living gospel. How will others come to know you and Hal, David and Kristin, your Aymara friends? I am so rich because I know you--even if just a few pages of your life. Will you write a memoir? I will pray about this.